


The Cutting Room

by agoodwoman



Series: Instinct Over Reason [8]
Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:10:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodwoman/pseuds/agoodwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>May 2015, after The Cutting Room concert</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cutting Room

They rode back to her hotel in giddy silence, their skin slightly sticky with sweat from the stage. His more so than hers; she had a glow to her body, enhancing the light tan she had shown up to NYC with.

They sat in the back of a suburban in comfortable silence, the same comfortable silence they shared in his apartment last night but this time with the excited feeling of doing something so public for two very private people. 

He had told her weeks ago about his concert this evening and she was hesitant about whether coming or not would make things too complicated for them. After all, she refused to go as his date to the Golden Globes earlier that year, knowing the next ten interviews she had would be dwarfed from "Tell us about The Fall and your other upcoming projects, congratulations on your performance in Streetcar" to "So how long have you been banging the Dukes?"

They were good about playing the party line, that they were just friends and nothing more however there were some slip ups in the past and recently that made some "journalists" very busy.

  
She wasn't as careless as people thought she was and in the last ten years had become much more careful about everything. She was headstrong and was determined not to have another public affair to explain to her family and friends. There was only so much she could hide from her boys. They were innocent but they weren't completely sequestered from the real world. They knew David as Mommy's "work friend" and they liked him as much as they could until they saw him hugging her too soon after the split with Mark. Then, the usual territorial game started and, sometimes ignored him because they felt no man should compare to Daddy. She hadn't brought the boys around much since then but then again, he only brought his son around her these days. 

  
Then there were these moments when they could just be themselves, outside of family, the media and the public eye, and be with one another. They could have fun, laugh and enjoy themselves and tonight was more public than they have been in a long time. 

  
Yet he was right for all the things he had said to her at the Beacon Bar the day before while they waited for their time at the Upfronts. At this point in their lives, what was really holding them back anymore? 

  
She argued the Atlantic ocean between their houses, their upcoming busy work schedules and their kids. When she came out on stage, giving him a lingering kiss hello, her lips planted around one of his, he knew she decided not to hold back anymore. Not to hide the way they had been.  

  
"Are you ready for the shit storm that's going to follow tonight?" He asked as they drove down the busy streets of NYC to her hotel. 

She groaned and looked out the window. "Don't spoil my buzz."

  
"I thought you didn't drink?" He countered and slid his hand across the soft leather seat. 

  
"I didn't," she replied and shrugged one shoulder. "I mean my buzz from singing live."

  
"You did pretty well for a woman with no memory," he joked and she pulled her hand away to try to pinch his arm. He laughed and grabbed her wrist. "Hey!" 

  
"I can remember song lyrics," she defended and tried to tug her wrist away but he pulled her closer. "I'm buckled in."

  
"Oh." He placed her arm in her lap and patted it awkwardly, causing them to erupt in another round of laughter. He told the driver to take them to his place without looking at her and she sighed next to him in agreement. The anticipation in the cab grew and she felt the crackle of tension radiating off him.

  
Once they got back to his apartment, he hung their jackets while she kicked off her high shoes. They made their way into the kitchen to get water and he started pulling food items from the fridge. 

  
"What are you doing?" She asked, gathering the dress in one hand to roll each ankle around, free from the material at her feet.

  
"Making scrambled eggs," he said simply like he made them every night.

  
She studied him for a minute and gently moved him away from the fridge. "You don't cook." 

  
"I can scramble eggs," he countered but let her make the eggs anyway. 

  
He pulled a pan out from a drawer while she looked for milk and cheese. "There's butter in the door." He said while he watched her work. He found it adorable she had to stand on her tip toes to reach for a plate after she turned on his stove. 

  
There wasn't a crackle when the eggs hit the pan and he leaned over her shoulder, standing close behind her to watch as she stood ready with a spatula. 

  
"When was the last time you made me eggs?" He asked, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her slightly back towards him. He tried to remember if it was as far back as he thought, in the nineties after an award show while she stood in a nude coloured dress after too much fun in the back of a limo. 

  
"Probably 1997," she guessed and her hands stilled as he kissed his way down her neck. 

  
"Not a year and a half ago?" He asked. More firmly he pulled her to him, dipping his knees and he pressed his arousal into her. 

  
Her breath caught in her throat as he massaged one breast while his other hand bunched up the flowy cloth of her dress up her thigh with his fingers. If her dress had been shorter he would have had it up around her waist yet the long material tangled in his fingers and he growled in frustration. 

  
"Fuck the eggs," he said and turned the stove off. 

  
He took her by the hand and lead her down the hallway, stopping once to kiss her deeply, her back digging into the wall and his hands roaming everywhere they could on her body. 

  
"You need a shower," she told him and gave him an impish smile. 

  
The large bathroom had a double shower with two heads and a small bench. When he first saw it he thought he must be getting old that he appreciated to be able to sit in a shower, a standing activity. His kids made a joke when they stayed with him that they should install a door on his bathtub next. He reminded them he could still surf and run with the best of the kids but spent twenty minutes staring at the bench, working out if he could have the thing taken out of there. Then after the last time Gillian visited his mind went crazy with possibilities.  

  
He blamed his old age for not getting there sooner but he looked at things a lot differently than when he was in his 30s. 

  
The shower water was hot while they scrubbed one another down, her being careful to keep her head out of the water with her hair piled on the top of her head in a messy bun. 

  
Gillian held her arms in front of her breasts while she lathered his Ivory soap on a shower puff while he sat on the bench, watching with fascination. 

  
"I feel like tomorrow is going to be a little crazy," she ponders. 

  
"You came out and kissed _me_ on the mouth," he reminded her and she crooked an eyebrow at him in response. 

  
He let out a hesitant sigh and the right side of his mouth crooked up as though he was fighting a frown. His hand circled forward in that gesture he was fond of as to say a statement of 'what can you do?'. She didn't respond but merely began soaping up her arms, holding them straight in front of her, alternating between soaping each arm.

  
He took the loofah from her and pulled her towards him so he could soap her stomach and back. The sound of the water falling on the tile floor was the only noise in the bathroom as he placed soft kisses along her stomach. She took the loofah from his hands and ran the soapy sponge up and down his back as he ran his hands along her spinal column down to her ass. 

  
What he did with his tongue, traveling along where she had just cleaned, lapping up the water from her stomach up to her breasts, taking time to massage, kiss and suckle on each nipple. 

  
He stood up and spun her around, facing the wall and leaned her forward while he widened his stance so that they were more evenly matched. She braced her elbows on the wall of the shower and looked over her shoulder as he watched himself dip an exploratory finger into her swollen folds. She let out a shaky breath as he moved one long thick digit in and out of her, spreading her juices over her as his other hand moved to her breast. 

  
"You've gotten better at multitasking," she pointed out. 

  
"You'd be amazed at how ambidextrous I can be," he murmured as he continued his ministrations. "Playing guitar really taught me how to do more than one thing at a time."

  
"You said you were a crappy guitar player," she teased.

  
"Oh I am," he assured her. He pulled his fingers out of her and entered her in one swift motion, causing her to cry out. He stilled himself and allowed her to adjust to his invasion into her body. 

  
"God you feel so tight," he breathed and she squeezed a little. "Hey!"

  
She laughed quietly and he starting thrusting inside of her. His hand moved from her waist to her center and he moved his finger gently over the bundle of nerves. 

  
He kept a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of her as she braced herself against the tile of the stall. The hot water sliced down her back and to where they were joined, causing the slap of his groin to echo against her ass. His fingers continued to move gently across her clit and she pushed into him, looking for a more rough contact than what he was giving her.

  
"More," she breathed and reached around to push his hand harder into her.

  
From his perspective, what was the rush? He didn't want another frantic coupling like they had before, hurrying between her events. He wanted to take his time tonight. Gently he pulled her hand away and held it to her breast and moved his other hand back to its place, continuing its slow deliberate movements. 

  
The build towards her release was mounting and she felt swollen and hot. They would probably need another shower after this was all over.    
The tension in her body was mounting and she could feel the sweet release coming yet just as she reached the precipice of her orgasm he pulled out of her suddenly.

  
"Bed," he grunted and grabbed her a large grey towel from the rack, then one for himself. 

  
She barely managed to wrap the towel around her before he was hauling her into the room, kissing her thoroughly and tossing the towel across the room before laying her down on the plush bedding. He entered her quickly and she gasped, his large cock filling her. He took a few gentle thrusts before stilling, and leaning back, so that he was just on his knees. His hand moved from her leg up to her center and he moved his thumb across her center.

  
"Oh god!' She cried out.  

  
This was not par for the course for them; the position, and the lack of foreplay. But if she had a problem she didn't mind it and she wasn't one to suffer in silence. 

  
Laying on her back she couldn't reach him as he took control and fucked her. The boxing he recently started up again, the running at the gym, and the "sort-of" vegetarian lifestyle he had taken up were all doing wonders for him in his fifties. It was the same man she had been on and off again for over twenty years but he had grown a lot. They both had.

  
As her excitement grew and she felt on the edge of her orgasm he continued to help it build, moving his thumb gently but firmly across her clit. She moaned lowly and the orgasm expanded within her, and he stilled his thrusting to feel her walls massage his cock.

  
She pulled him towards him and they kissed again. Wet lips smacking against one another, their breath exchanged and tongues sliding against each other. 

  
He pulled away and looked down at her, the blonde tendrils loose from her bun were curly from the steam from the shower and her chest and face were flushed. 

  
"What?" She asked at his stillness.

  
"Move here with me," he proposed. "Come back to the US."

  
"David..." she warned. This was not the time and place for this conversation. Not while he was penetrating her on a king sized bed in NYC, with the rest of the world was waiting outside for them. 

  
He started moving again, his dick sliding in and out of her and he repeated, "Move here with me."

  
"No," she replied, closing her eyes and focusing on what they were actually doing versus what he was trying to get her to do.

  
He kissed her again and buried his face in the crook of her neck, thrusting harder into her and enticing a second orgasm to build. After the first, the second, third and fourth were not far off. She rubbed her feet along his calves and ground his pelvis into hers with each drive into her. 

  
He could feel she was getting close, her thighs began to shake and her breath caught in her throat. He moaned lowly and pushed into her body one last time as he emptied himself inside of her. 

  
They lay panting on the bed for a moment, his body still on top of hers with  new sheen of sweat coating both of them. 

  
"Move here with me," he said again, kissing along he collarbones. God he loved these collarbones. "Move to New York."

"David..." she panted and shook her head. "Be reasonable."

"I am being reasonable," he replied. "This is the most reasonable I think I've ever been."

"I have two little boys I don't want to uproot from their lives in London," she reminded him, running her fingers through his hair. "You need another hair cut."

He stopped tracing his tongue along her clavicle and looked into her icy blue eyes.

"Why do you look at me like that?"

"Just answer this simply, no ramblings, no explanations and then we can go from there," he started and she nodded, knowing when she was nervous she tended to babble. "Do you love me?"

"Uh- I-"

"No...."

"I do," she replied. "I do love you."

"I love you. Move here with me," he replied. 

"We will be in Vancouver, we have press and what have you, a short break, I'm doing the movie in India and then I'm back in Belfast," she replied. "Can't we just... put a pin in it until next year?"

"You said that a year and a half ago," he replied and pulled out of her, rolling onto his back. His dick was still semi-hard and hit his thigh with a light slap. 

"You were still technically married," she reminded him and got off the bed to clean herself up. 

"I'm not married now," he said as he pulled on a pair of boxer briefs over his ass. "You're not married now."

"Those things are both true," she said. 

  
"You know, when I was in treatment I looked back on all the stupid ways I got myself addicted to porn and sex and using women and my body like it was a trash heap to suck pleasure out of. I never once looked at all the times you and I were together as any of those things," he admitted. She slowly pulled her underwear up and regarded him before picking up her bra. "Even when I was married and you and I were together, I didn't look at it like part of my addiction."

  
"Were you addicted then?" She asked.

  
"No, I just felt like I had two women I loved but one of them I couldn't be with because of this other machine we were working on. I know I didn't tell you while we were working together and I was an asshole about it a lot, but I loved you then too," he replied. "I never looked at you like something I was supposed to be ashamed of because of what I was doing to Tea. Even when our publicists and agents were telling us that party line and to say we were friends because no one could understand what we were doing."

  
"I didn't understand what we were doing," she said and put her hands on her hips, standing before him in a black strapless bra and nude panties. It was pretty sexy. "I still don't. It works better that I don't and I don't over-think it."

  
"I know what you are thinking," he said, pulling her into an embrace and kissing her head. 

  
"Oh yeah?" She asked with a laugh. 

  
"You think this is because of them that I'm wanting something stable for my life," he guessed, referring to his ex and her new boyfriend but she shook her head. "No? Are you giving me more credit than that?"

  
"I feel like you need time to process more of what you've just been through," she said, looking up at him. "You have ten songs written about the end of your marriage and they just spent an evening with the president as Ken and Barbie."

  
"I'm doing better than you think," he said. "You're not my consolation prize for falling out of love with someone and fucking up my marriage."

  
She shook her head. "I don't know what you want."

  
"Just you," he replied. "More of this and just with each other."

  
"That can be arranged," she conceded and looked up into his hazel green eyes. "Just... Not..."

  
"Not publicly?" He asked. He studied her face for a sign that she was going to pull the rug out from him again.  

  
"Ask me how you feel about this next week," she replied and smiled sadly. "After the interviews you have set up."

"I know what's coming," he said assuredly. 

  
"David I want to give you some credit but I know this would overshadow both of what we have going on," she replied and gave him a sad smile. "You and I both know the repetitive nature of all this. Just wait."

 

He nodded and pulled away from her. His eyes studied everywhere but her now and her heart ached for him again. "Do you want to...stay tonight?" 

  
"I can," she offered. "If you want."

  
"Don't do that. I'm asking if you want to," he said and she nodded. 

  
He took the dress from her and took her into the bedroom. From the closet he found one of his white t-shirts and handed it to her. She shed her underwear and bra, placing them on the pale blue couch near the bed, he put her dress next to it and let her hair down. Slowly she donned the soft cotton shirt and padded towards the kitchen. 

  
"What are you doing?" He asked.

  
"I can't leave that pan sitting there," she called over her shoulder. "Why don't you find me a toothbrush."

  
When she returned she had her blackberry and phone charger ready to plug in. She found a pair of his boxer briefs and pulled them on. While the fit was loose she felt better about sleeping in something rather than nothing. 

  
"What time do you have to be up?" She asked as she was setting an alarm on her phone.

  
"At an ungodly hour, is that on there?" He asked glancing at her phone and that earned him an impish smile. "No? What about 'what fucking hell is this?'"

  
"You're going to need to cut that out by the time we get to the summer," she said and placed her phone on the bedside table. "My boys will charge you fifty p if they hear heck or hell. I think if you say the f-word that's a whole quid."

  
"I'll carry a  lot of singles with me," he said and she nudged him playfully. "Okay, I'll try."

  
She kissed him firmly on the lips and he pulled her closer to him under the covers. 

  
"Snuggling too?" She said and he gave her backside a squeeze. 

  
"Yeah, I'm needy," he said and she laughed. 

  
They had these moments and they worked. Yet she was sure that when the real world woke him up from this romantic notion, he would change his tune. And inside her heart couldn't take that roller coaster again. When she slept she dreamt of tambourines.


End file.
